


Fashion Disaster

by ClaudiaWrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Christmas fic, F/M, Humor, Marauders, Romance, Saleswoman!Lily, jily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27862502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaudiaWrites/pseuds/ClaudiaWrites
Summary: James Potter is roped into an awful dare by his best-mate, which involves him wearing atrocious pieces of clothing for all days until Christmas as dictated by Sirius. If this wasn't terrible enough, he now has to contend with his maddening crush on the beautiful saleswoman at the clothing store.
Relationships: James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Mary Macdonald, Sirius Black/Mary Macdonald
Comments: 74
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lexiscribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexiscribbles/gifts).



> I'm having a wonderful time writing this! It's so unlike any Christmas fic I've ever written but feels perfect for the occasion. I hope you guys enjoy it just as much!
> 
> @Alex - This one's for you because I HAD to thank you for getting me addicted to Miraculous Lady Bug and for filling up my chatbox with your quirky messages every day. Lots of love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 AKA 'The Tiger Print Slacks'

**Fashion Disaster**

Chapter 1

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Decidedly not.”

“Sirius, mate, come on,” James pleads, his face taking on a terrified expression as he turns to look at his best friend. They were standing in front of _Take a Bow_ , a trendy clothing store that had been garnering a lot of attention lately, and was also a rather peculiar spot for two twenty-year-old boys to be bickering at. “Christmas is _days_ away!”

“Pretty sure you said, it was “just a week away” when daring _me_.”

“I—” James stops, blanching in the face of the highly displeasing truth, and looks around the busy street, as if imploring a random passerby to stop and support him, preferably with convincing arguments noted down in flashcards. “You know I wouldn’t have actually gone through with it!”

This, of course, is an outrageous lie. He absolutely would have.

“I think we already know I’m not, and nor do I intend to be, the bigger person in any situation whatsoever,” Sirius smirks, “also, you’re shite at lying, Prongs.”

“ _Please,_ Sirius. I promise I’ll never make fun of your song choices or romance novels _ever_ again.”

“I’m disappointed,” Sirius says, giving him a swift, painful push towards the daunting doors with entirely too much glee and nonexistent remorse, “You’re not even _trying_ to make them believable anymore.”

“I hate you.”

“I’ll happily bear your hatred and whining if it means I get to see you do as I say.”

“You’re a terrible person! _Abhorrent_ , with no compassion for my fragile state of mind. What would people think? How would I show my face to anyone?! How would I show my _body_ —”

“Oh, shut up!” Sirius rolls his eyes, promptly kneading his fist into James’s back and all but shoving him inside the brightly lit store. “No one wants to see your lanky body anyway.”

“That _hurt_ , you miserable oaf!” James cries, rubbing his back as he turns around to glare at Sirius.

“The truth always hurts, mate,” Sirius says with an indifferent shrug, smartly stepping away when James’s fingers flex tellingly. He proceeds to coolly scan the rows and rows of clothing, a barely-there smile on his lips. James knows all about the pure, unadulterated mirth dancing in his grey eyes though, and suddenly feels like he has accompanied Satan into his lair.

“Hello, my name is Lily. How can I help you today?”

James turns around at the polite, yet rehearsed line, and finds a gorgeous woman with startling green eyes and dark red hair pulled back into a side braid, looking at them patiently.

It feels like a perfect punch to his gut, all the air whooshing out of him, and his stomach drops, drops, _drops_ , and he thinks, this is it.

This has to be the _worst_ dare he has ever agreed to in his _entire_ life.

He’s aware that it includes that one time he had to go skinny dipping into a practically frozen lake and was bedridden for three days after. He was being dramatic before; a dare to wear the most atrocious pieces of clothing Sirius could select for him for all days until Christmas was definitely diabolic, but not the worst his idiotic friend had made him do.

But _now_ , James can’t.

Not in front of a girl that looks like _her._ Like all the best things James could have possibly fantasized about in a woman neatly combined into a person that put his dreams and imagination to shame.

“Hi, Lily. I’m Sirius and Mr. Gob Smacked over here is also called James sometimes,” Sirius’s delighted voice breaks James out of his mortified trance, only to push him further down the rabbit hole of misery. “We’re here to do some Christmas shopping.”

“And I’ll be glad to assist you,” Lily grins brightly, seemingly undeterred at Sirius’s beyond eccentric and borderline mental behavior. James fleetingly considers covering his eyes lest her beauty blind him, but decides it’s a bit too much, even for him. “Come along, then, the men’s section is towards the back.”

He dutifully follows her to his doom, unsticking his feet from the floor with much difficulty. After a few painful seconds, just as James starts considering if he can dash out of the store before alerting Sirius, the man in question drapes his arm across James’s shoulders, as if entirely aware of his train of thoughts.

“Fit bird, isn’t she?” He whispers gleefully, “Quite your type.”

“Did I mention that I hate you?”

“Seems like the clever sort, too. As your best-mate, I will do everything in my power to make her notice you, of course.”

“I swear to _God_ , Sirius, I will kill—”

“So, what exactly are you looking for?” Lily asks over her shoulder, her green eyes falling to James and rendering him speechless. He thinks he imagines it, very likely he _does_ , but her cheeks blush pink before she averts her eyes, looking forward again as her hands gesture around animatedly. “Feel free to look around and let me know. We stock up all the latest designs and brands.”

“We’re thinking _colorful_ and _vibrant,_ isn’t that right, Prongs?” Sirius elbows him none too gently.

James pushes him off and narrows his eyes, trying to telepathically curse him with all the _colorful_ words he knows. “Yes,” he grits out in reply, much to his own chagrin.

Lily halts suddenly, and James realizes that he has completed his march to the gallows. She turns around, a dubious eyebrow raised at his clearly constipated expression and Sirius’s pleasantly heinous grin.

“Er, alright,” she says, naturally having decided that she’d sooner go strangle herself than try to figure out their problem. No salesperson could ever be paid enough to put up with Sirius’s crap. “How about looking at some sweaters first?” 

“Let’s do it,” Sirius claps his hands together, following her with a maniacal grin.

“How about this?” Lily asks, pulling out a dark green sweater and holding it up for Sirius, “It would go really well with your complexion, and—”

“Ah, we’ll come to me, later, Evans,” Sirius says, and James’s eyes immediately zoom in on the name tag pinned to Lily’s chest at the mention of her last name. He feels like a right ponce, but dragging his eyes away poses to be a much tougher task. “Let’s look at something for James first.”

“Sure,” Lily agrees with an unbothered shrug, and walks up to him, _close._ Not close enough, of course, but the closest she’s been to him since he’s entered the store. He catches the mildest scent of vanilla, notices the most attractive dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and his hand jumps up to his hair, ruffling it subconsciously. “Hello, James.”

“Er, hullo,” He replies like a moron, his voice too scratchy and his heart too loud. The sudden realization that he hasn’t said a word to her directly until now stuns him, and he catches hold of his senses for long enough to push a sentence out. “You must think we’re very strange.”

It's quite understandable when she doesn’t immediately tear off her clothes at the words.

Sirius shakes his head pityingly, which James expertly ignores.

“You’d be surprised at my tolerance level for strangeness,” Lily says smoothly, having no trouble stringing words together unlike him.

“I promise there’s a good explanation for all this.”

“I’m sure,” Lily chuckles.

James is quite certain at this point that she thinks he’s an absolute loon, and he wants to wither on the spot in embarrassment.

That is, until she says, “You’ve really nice eyes.”

_You've really nice eyes._

“Oh,” James says, with all the suaveness of a croaking toad. “Er, I mean, thanks. I got them from my mom, so you should actually be complimenting her. Of course, you can’t because she isn’t here, but I’ll pass on the sentiments to her. If you want. I won’t if you don’t.”

Shut up. Shut up. _Shut up._

He can’t really blame Sirius when he lets out a loud groan.

Lily, however, laughs loudly, shockingly, _mercifully_ , and James wonders if she’s simply got a heart of gold and doesn’t want to embarrass him further, or if she actually finds him funny.

It shouldn’t be a big surprise, because James _is_ dead funny. He’s generally the life of the party, so to speak, but he usually knows when he’s cracking jokes. Right now, however, the whole situation feels like a joke.

Yeah, it’s probably the golden heart.

“You can definitely pass them on,” Lily replies, and for a second James is confused, but then his nonsense sputtering comes back to him, “But I was talking more in terms of contrast. Your eyes and tone would go really well with maroon, or even blue,” she says, gesturing towards his—indeed, blue—sweater.

“You’re the expert,” James replies, shrugging with a small smile.

Lily nods, stepping away and exchanging the green sweater in her hand for a brilliant shade of maroon that James is quite certain would look amazing on him.

Naturally, Sirius hates it.

“No,” he interferes, striding forward and taking the sweater away.

“No?” Lily asks, looking a little deflated, and James has never wanted to punch Sirius more. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. _I’ll_ find something.”

“Oh. Well, alright. Let me know if you need any help,” Lily says, politely stepping back and walking away.

Sirius, entirely unbothered by how caustic his remark was—though James knows it's more of a personality issue than a situational issue—starts rummaging through the clothes.

“You’re a prat, Padfoot,” He says, rolling his eyes and walking after Lily.

Sirius simply flips him the bird and continues his search.

“Hey! Lily! Evans!” James jogs up to her.

“Easy there. My train doesn’t arrive for at least another two seconds,” Lily says, turning around as James comes to a halt in front of her. She’d been re-folding a t-shirt that someone had picked up and thrown back haphazardly on the stand.

“That’s a relief. Now I have a whole second to apologize to you on behalf of my dickhead of a companion.”

“There’s no need,” Lily smiles, looking up at him, “I can understand that salespeople can get a little intrusive at times.”

“No! Not intrusive, not at all. That sweater was lovely. You have great choice. It’s just Sirius. He’s…” James gestures wildly with his hands.

“Well don’t just leave me hanging! Your second is running up.”

“It’s complicated,” He finishes on an amused exhale. “It’s this stupid bet.”

“Now you’ve got me properly intrigued,” Lily says, folding her arms across her chest and shifting her weight. James finds the entire movement strangely distracting. “If you make this good, I might even consider—oh, my _God_ , I can’t believe I’m saying this— _missing_ my train.”

James laughs, “Are you sure you know what you’re signing up for?”

“A bit of entertainment in an otherwise mundane job. It might seem like a difficult choice, but I contemplated it for a _whole_ millisecond before deciding.”

“You’re going to laugh.”

“I think that’s the _point,_ James.”

He can't argue with her. Not when she's presenting him with the chance to finally _talk_ to her without bumbling on like a prat. Not when it means his poor little heart can enjoy her company for a little longer before she understandably becomes disgusted.

“Well, alright. So, every Christmas, Sirius and I make a stupid bet with each other with even stupider stakes, see?” James starts, his face mirroring Lily’s small smile, “No one actually cares about what the bet is—it could be something as pointless as seeing who can drink a glass of juice the fastest. It’s the dare that follows that’s the real tradition.”

“What was the bet this time?”

“We held a mini karaoke concert at home and had our friends and family vote on who sounded the best.”

“A little extra, aren’t you?”

“Just a bit,” James grins. “But to be fair, I honestly thought I’d win. Sirius, the wanker, had apparently been a talented bathroom singer for a while. You’d _think_ he’d care to share such things with his best-mate of nine years, but he’s a bloody nuisance.”

Lily shakes her head with a laugh. “Brilliant. And what was the dare?”

“Well,” James says, now laughing too. “That’s where the strangeness comes in. I—”

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius saunters up to them, cutting James off. He just manages to turn around before Sirius unceremoniously shoves a bundle of clothes against his chest. He looks down and catches sight of tropical and animal prints, neon shades, and something that looks suspiciously like granny knickers.

“What the fuck?”

“Yes, yes, you can groan and cry all you want in the trial room,” Sirius says patiently, shooting a look at Lily which seems to say ‘can-you-believe-what-a-pansy-he’s-being?’ that she’s understandably unable to reciprocate. “Deal’s a deal.”

“Sirius, I’m _not_ —” James stops, lowering his voice and leaning closer to Sirius as his face becomes impossibly warm, “You know very well that the rules didn’t allow underthings.”

“You’re being too rigid, Prongs.”

“ _Rigid?_ ” His voice rises in alarm, his eyes momentarily flicking to Lily, who clearly looks like she’s having difficulty breathing through her laughter, “For fuck’s sake, this is a _woman’s_ —”

“Well alright, if you insist on being such a bore,” Sirius rolls his eyes, “only the rest of the stuff then.”

James knows this is hardly a win, because they _had_ set proper ground rules and he was still being dragged through the mud, but felt relief flood his bones regardless.

“Fine,” He growls.

* * *

“Oh no,” James moans, staring at himself in the trial room mirror with nothing short of horror and despair, “No, no, _no_.”

“If you’ve died in there, I’m still burying you in those clothes,” Sirius’s voice floats to him from outside the room.

“You know how I said I hated you before? That was an understatement. I actually _loathe_ you.”

“You’ll also have to accompany me to a restaurant for lunch if you take any longer.”

“Is-is Lily out there with you?”

“Oh, missing her, are you?” He asks, and James can hear the Sirius-like delight in his voice. “I’ll call her right away if you insist.”

“Sirius, I swear, dare or no dare, I _will_ murder you in your sleep.”

“You have _five_ seconds to come out before I make good on my promise, James,” Sirius says, entirely undeterred in the face of such an ominous threat. “1…2…3…”

“Jesus, _fine_ , just stop being so obnoxious,” James says, almost sobbing as he throws open the door to the trial room.

There’s just one other person waiting outside apart from Sirius, but even that feels like one person too many to James. He doesn’t miss the look of absolute disgust that passes over the stranger’s face before they hurriedly look away.

There’s nothing James wants more now than to dig himself a hole, crawl into it and pass away peacefully.

“Sweet Lord, this might just be the best moment of my life,” Sirius says, a hand clutching his chest as he falls back against the wall behind him, howling shamelessly. He stuffs his fist into his mouth as tears stream from his eyes, body shaking with laughter.

“Are you quite done yet?” James asks with no small amount of disdain, “The dare did not include the winner taking their sweet bloody time mocking the poor blind-sided friend.”

“This is precious,” Sirius sighs, wiping his eyes, “I can’t believe I get to do this every day for a whole week.”

James can’t believe it either.

When he was a naïve boy (of three days ago), he’d sat and penned down all the ridiculous rules to their bet, as certain in his victory as his mom tended to be of her horoscope predictions. As per the highly ‘sacred’ document, the winner got to dictate what the loser wore for all days until Christmas. To make things more interesting, the winner would accompany the loser to a store of their choice each day to ensure maximum visibility of said outfit to the outside world. The loser would necessarily have to wear each outfit for at least 16 hours from the moment they left the store. There would be no underthings, cross-dressing, or picture taking involved (unless the loser volunteered).

He had then gone on to proudly sign his doom on that piece of paper, handing his reputation to Sirius on a silver platter.

Sometimes James really worries that his mom might be telling the truth when she says that she dropped him on his head as a child.

“Are we taking these, then?” He snaps petulantly, sending Sirius off again.

“Of course, we are,” He wheezes once he’s able to catch his breath. “Come on, I can’t wait to show you off.”

James doesn’t even wait for Sirius to finish his sentence before he’s already rushed back inside the changing room, all but ripping off the horrendous tiger print slacks, puce colored sleeveless tee, and neon pink jacket with crazed vehemence.

He’s never appreciated his sober, comfortable clothes more in his life. He almost wants to sit down on the floor and kiss them.

Instead, he has to, unfortunately, drag himself out of the trial room when Sirius starts threatening him again. James would ask him to fuck off were it not for the fact that he’s entirely certain that Sirius would go through with them.

“Have you decided then?” Lily asks once they’ve meandered outside with comically different expressions. Her eyes travel down to the bundle of clothes in James's hands once again and she gives him a pitying chuckle, understanding shining in her eyes. “I would tell you that this is a terrible waste of money, but I work here.”

“James has money to waste,” Sirius intones unhelpfully and inappropriately.

“Shut up,” James groans, “leave me alone. I hate everything.”

“Oh, you drama queen. Let’s get this over with.”

There’s a rather stony woman at the counter who greets James and Sirius with a delightful gaze of irritation. Lily’s conversation with her is short, clipped, and makes James highly uncomfortable.

A quick glance at the woman’s name tag explains why; she’s Lily’s sister.

This comes as such a shock to James that he can’t help the disbelieving snort that escapes him. He immediately apologizes, of course, but no one can blame him for his astonishment at finding out that Lily—wonderful, sweet, heart of gold Lily—could be related to someone like Petunia Evans.

“Give me those,” she snaps, her bony hands reaching out and grabbing the clothes from him.

“Damn! And I was so close to escaping, too,” James chortles, trying to lighten the mood, but Petunia’s frown simply deepens. It’s utterly ridiculous, because those clothes are disgusting, and James can’t wait to throw them into the fireplace as soon as twenty-four hours are up.

Lily rolls her eyes at her sister from behind the counter and gives James a ‘sorry-my-sister-is-a-mean-cow’ shrug.

He pays the bill while Lily packs the clothes, even though James insists there’s no need because as per his deal with Sirius, he would need to change into them before leaving the store.

Lily laughs, handing him the bag, “just trying to delay your moment of pain.”

“Here’s your card, Potter,” Petunia interrupts sharply, sliding James’s card back to him. “Changing rooms are towards the back.”

“He knows,” Lily rolls her eyes—James realizes it's her normal reaction around Petunia—and gestures with her hand towards the rooms, “we just came from there.”

“Stop befriending strange customers, Lily,” Petunia hisses, not even caring how her voice carries to the boys. “Go do your work.”

“Stop bossing me around,” Lily answers back, her eyes flashing and face reddening in anger. “Also, that’s a terrible way to run a store, Petunia.”

“I’d say,” Sirius whispers to James, “Does she want her customers to never return?”

Petunia turns away from Lily with an indignant huff, and simply brushes past her without a glance backward.

“I’m so very sorry about that. She’s usually never here at the store, you came on a bad day,” Lily says, looking exhausted all of a sudden. She throws in a smile for good measure, but James notices that it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“What are you talking about?” He says, running a hand through his hair, “She was a delight. I’m half tempted to elope with her in my dashing new outfit.”

Lily laughs, and James feels his stomach bubbling dangerously.

“Oh, so it’s alright to mock yourself for _her_ ,” Sirius grumbles under his breath.

“I’m going through with this blasphemous and downright _shameful_ ordeal for a _week_ , aren’t I? What more do you want?”

“Hmm, you’re right, hearing you repeat it like that does make me feel quite good.”

As James trudges towards the dreadful changing rooms again, he wonders if anyone would _terribly_ mind it if Sirius were to be involved in a random tragic accident on their way back. Probably not.

* * *

While James had foolishly hoped that the disastrous combination of clothes may not seem _that_ awful at a second glance, he finds himself grossly mistaken when he’s managed to slip into them again.

If possible, he looks _worse._

He _feels_ worse. Because beyond the relative safety of the trial rooms and Sirius’s cackling, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen awaits witnessing his walk of shame.

But there’s no avoiding it.

So, James kills his pride—a feat his mother hasn’t been able to achieve in twenty years—and walks out. He ignores Sirius’s Laughter Mania 2.0 and boldly continues walking.

That’s about as far as his confidence goes.

Lily, who’d been drinking water from a small plastic bottle, looks up, catches his eye, and immediately bolts somewhere to the back. This is immediately followed by a strange mixture of coughing, laughing, and wheezing noises.

Sirius is now all but _falling_ on James, who purposely side-steps to let the stupid prat crash to the floor. Unfortunately, the bastard stays upright.

“Stop _laughing_ , you wanker! I’m leaving without you, I swear,” James tells him, his face feeling way too warm for comfort. This does nothing to alarm his best-mate, of course. “Sirius!”

“Oh my God, did you—did you see her face? She—she _ran_!”

James is just about to inform him how terrible a person he is for the tenth time that day when Lily walks back inside, her eyes a little red and her lips twitching tellingly.

“I’m sorry about that,” she says to James, her voice shaky, “I just choked a little.”

“We gathered,” James deadpans.

Lily purses her lips and continues staring at him.

“Like something you see?” James asks, unable to help the chuckle that escapes him when Lily promptly bursts out laughing again.

“Best workday ever!” she manages to say, her hand coming to rest on his chest as she tries to regain control of her breathing.

James is eternally grateful that her hand lands more to the right, because he’s pretty certain that things could get incredibly awkward on the left. He’s sure he’s going to have to deal with the tingling sensation on his skin as it is.

“If you both are quite done,” He says loudly, drowning out their twin chuckling, “I’d like to minimize the damage before more people see me.”

“Oh well, plenty more people on the street, I suppose,” Sirius agrees, seemingly in a joyous mood now as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and starts walking. “S’later, Evans.”

“Goodbye,” Lily smiles, sobering up a bit as she takes a couple of steps back. She looks up at James then, her smile softening and a light blush blooming on her cheeks. “It was nice meeting you, James. I hope—I—”

“I’ll see you again!” James blurts out, though where he gets the confidence from, standing there in his neon jacket, in front of _Lily_ , he’ll never know, “Er, tomorrow, that is. Actually, this whole week. It’s week-long torture, until Christmas.”

“Oh,” Lily says, her green eyes widening.

James wonders why he’s even gone and _told_ her that, because no one in their right mind would be interested in someone like him when he's clearly off his rockers. Hell, even James wouldn’t be interested in James.

Before his thoughts can get any weirder, however, Lily stuns him with one of her patent smiles, “That’s great. I look forward to it.”

“Yeah,” James agrees dazedly, “me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, thoughts, gibberish, anything is appreciated. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 AKA 'The Sweatshirt of Death'

**Fashion Disaster**

Chapter 2

"But of course, she _looks forward_ to it, Prongs," Sirius tells him the next day as they make their way back to the store, "anybody with the tiniest sense of humor would bloody well look forward to it."

"What?" James asks, his brows pinched dubiously.

"Who _wouldn't_ want to witness this whole thing play out? I, for one, would never miss out on the chance."

"You really think that's why she said it?" James asks, his heart sinking. Although Lily didn't seem like the sort to bask in the misery of others, James supposes that there's _some_ humor to the whole situation, from an entirely third-person-looking-in sort of way.

"I don't know, mate, I don't know _her_ ," Sirius rolls his eyes, "Now stop it. We've been talking about this bird for too long and it's annoying me. I'm supposed to be having fun!"

"Oh, I'm sorry if this is difficult for _you_."

"As you should be," Sirius replies flippantly, "It's cruel of you to take away this one week of happiness from my otherwise terrible life."

"You don't have a terrible life," James frowns, "you derive constant satisfaction from humiliating me in front of women I like and stealing my parents' affections."

"That's true, they _do_ love me more," Sirius tugs on his jacket self-importantly, "but as far as the humiliation goes, you do plenty of that on your own, mate."

"Oh, is that right? Remind me again who wanted me to wear that hideous outfit to the store this morning?"

"You _lost_ the bet. Those were the terms, if you remember—"

"I _wrote_ the terms."

"Strange brag for a loser, but you do you."

James ignores him. "And it says that I _only_ need to wear it for sixteen hours."

"You can't blame me for trying to prolong my amusement," Sirius grins remorselessly.

"I absolutely can!" James counters, "As my best-mate, you should be trying to make me look good in front of Lily, not make her completely forget what I look like when I don't have a garbled assortment of clothes on."

"What are you saying, Prongs?" Sirius asks, blinking innocently, "This _is_ me trying to make you look good."

"One of these days, Padfoot, someone is going to kill you, and I won't do a damn thing to stop them."

"No need," Sirius smirks, pushing open the doors to _Take a Bow_ , "As long as I get to enjoy this week without any hiccups, I would've lived my life to the fullest."

"Ah, if it isn't my favorite pair of walking fashion disasters!"

James's eyes immediately snap away from glaring at Sirius at the familiar voice. And there stands Lily—her beauty just as blinding as yesterday after a miserable twenty-four hours spent frolicking around in his tiger print slacks.

Not that James ever _frolicked_. He was way too cool for such silly verbs. But it was a term his mother had unabashedly used to describe her own son last night when he'd excitedly told her about his encounter with Lily.

That was, of course, _after_ he'd finished appropriately hemming and hawing about the unfairness of the whole situation.

"I beg your pardon?" James raises his eyebrows with a small smirk, "My fashion sense, I'll let you know, is anything but a disaster. I can't speak for the smarmy git here, but _I_ have simply been coerced into a treacherous deal."

"A treacherous deal you drew up yourself?" Lily asks, her eyes leveling him with a flat look even as her lips twitch slightly.

"Don't redirect the conversation, Evans," James grins cheekily, "I know you're bursting with the need to compliment my black jumper and what it does for my already devilishly handsome looks."

"Now that's just silly," Lily says, scoffing, "If I _was_ going to compliment you, I would _obviously_ mention your hair first."

"Ah, the true markings of a superficial heart."

"I am what I am, and I don't pretend otherwise. Give me a good face with brilliant hair, and I'm sold."

They're properly grinning at each other now, feeling quite pleased.

James doesn't know about Lily, but there's a sudden restlessness in him like he's consumed three shots of espresso in a one-minute span. His stomach bubbles giddily and he feels like he could do a hundred push-ups (this is, undoubtedly, wishful thinking on his part because James can barely do twenty).

He's supremely glad that he'd given himself a pep talk in front of his mirror in the morning, much to Sirius's unending amusement. But James has learned not to pay attention to Sirius several years ago.

He feels _much_ better equipped to hold a conversation with the woman of his dreams now, such is his confidence.

Alright, maybe it's more _hope_ than confidence, but opening his mouth certainly no longer makes James want to shrivel up and die immediately after.

Improvement, if you ask him.

Sadly, the only thing Sirius asks is, "Are you going to start undressing right here? At least wait until you get to the trial room, mate."

Lily laughs, color blooming on her cheeks, and shakes her head. "Alright, let's get started then."

* * *

As Sirius gleefully peruses through clothes, James morosely walks around the store, deciding he'd rather not stand and observe the process when he'll eventually _have_ to wear whatever the flavor of the day is.

So far, Sirius seems to be swaying between rubbish and garbage.

James notices that the store seems a little more crowded compared to yesterday; a little child dragging his feet behind his mother as she scans clothes, two schoolgirls giggling behind their phones, a merry brunette helping out a middle-aged woman who—even James can tell—seems like a difficult customer.

The woman sniffs her nose haughtily in the air and turns away from the saleswoman after saying something, going off on her own to the lingerie section.

The brunette rolls her eyes once the woman has disappeared, and she looks right at James when she catches him watching the exchange. She quirks a dark brow at him as if in challenge, and when James gives her a compassionate shrug, she raises two fingers to the side of her head and mimes shooting herself.

James chuckles, liking her immediately.

"I see you've met the female version of your friend," Lily's voice is a melody in his ear as she suddenly appears at his side. She's wearing dark blue skinny jeans and a black turtle-neck top today that seem to have been devised with the sole purpose of killing him in mind.

James blinks, his heart skipping a beat.

He takes a moment to understand what she's said, and inwardly berates himself for falling back to his moronic ways.

"Comparing anyone to Sirius is a difficult standard to live up to," James says finally, taking the chance to stare at Lily as she blows a kiss to the girl across the store. Her green eyes stay diverted as she watches her friend—at least James assumes they're friends—catch it dramatically and clutch it to her chest. "You know, in terms of being an inappropriate arsehole."

An unexpected laugh bubbles out of her, and Lily turns her head to look at him again. That piercing stare makes James feel vulnerable, like Lily is entirely privy to all the ridiculous thoughts in his head. He tries to look away but finds that he can't.

"You're underestimating her."

"Maybe you're underestimating _Sirius_."

"From what I've gathered of Sirius thus far, he hates people, yet craves attention, finds no greater joy in life than annoying you, but would also do anything for you. Oh, and while he pretends not to care about anything, he cares entirely _too_ much."

"That is…an alarmingly correct assessment."

"Of course, it is," Lily smirks at him, clearly proud of herself. "I'm quite a good judge of character."

"Is that right?" James grins, "Well, what do you have to say about me then?"

Her eyes seem to widen in pleasant surprise, full lips parting slightly to reveal an excited smile. She immediately schools her features into thoughtfulness, though, green eyes calculating as she hums contemplatively.

Meanwhile, James's stomach feels like it's decided to throw a raucous party, insides twisting and jumping around in strange ways that let him know that he's utterly and completely screwed.

"You're clearly ridiculous," Lily starts, ticking off on her fingers, "dramatic beyond measure, but you're going through with this fucking weird bet, which makes me believe that you really care about Sirius too, don't you?"

"I—"

"And you're kind, funny, you absolutely adore your mother," Lily goes on without waiting for him to answer, seemingly on a roll, "your abundance of money makes you uncomfortable, ergo you're down to earth. And you're hot obviously, very well aware of it too—"

James chokes audibly. He _does_ know it, but hearing Lily Evans point it out to him like _that_ is…

"Being hot's not a personality trait," He says like a dolt.

Lily smirks, looking glad to have made him uncomfortable, "Are you complaining?"

Is she… _flirting_ with him?

"Oi, Prongs!" Sirius's irritated bark saves James from answering something—undoubtedly—stupid. "Would it kill you to not wander off like a headless chicken every two seconds?"

"Would it kill _you_ to not embarrass me every two seconds?"

"Let's not risk it," Sirius says, flicking some hair out of his eyes. "Ah, Evans is here. That makes more sense."

"Sorry?"

"Found what you wanted then, have you?" James interrupts loudly when Sirius looks only too willing to clarify Lily's confusion.

"It'll do for now."

"Give it here, then. I'll go get it billed."

"What, you're not going to try it on?" Lily asks, looking aghast. "But what if—"

"I don't like it?" James asks, "I think that ship has sailed long ago, Lily."

"I was _going_ to ask what if they don't fit?"

"Even better," He grins, stepping slightly closer to her to whisper conspiratorially, "I'll have an excuse not to wear them."

He enjoys the light spots that bloom onto her cheeks at the proximity, watching the way she opens and closes her mouth, no doubt unable to decide which of the _many_ issues to point out regarding James's stupid answer. Truth is, he can't be the least bit arsed about whether the clothes fit him or not, seeing how he's bound to look like a complete clown anyway.

What he _can_ do, instead, is deliberately find ways to spend more time in his normal clothes, hoping Lily can find it in herself to remember him like this if she ever decides to think about him during his absence.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Sirius grumbles, sidling up to him as they make their way towards the counter. He looks pissed in proper Sirius fashion. "And let me tell you now, Prongs; it's futile and pathetic."

"You're just bitter because the attention's not on you."

"That's precious. I can switch on my charm any second I want."

Not wanting to test out that claim—thanks to his complete awareness of the kind of effect Sirius seems to have on the female population (and sometimes the male too)—James decides to simply throw an ice-cold glare at his best-mate, letting the expression speak for itself.

"You look like you've been stunned," Sirius sniggers.

"Shut up," James smacks his upside the head, the scuffle causing enough noise to make Lily turn around and give them a questioningly amused look.

* * *

Sooner than he'd like, James finds himself secluded back inside the damning trial room. Not wanting to dwell too much on the ominous-looking clothes in his arms—he still dwells—he starts gloomily changing into them.

Once he's done, James just about manages to control the scream of horror that wants to slip out as he stares at his reflection.

It's not the yellow trousers with the polka dots that make him want to strangle Sirius—though they _are_ abhorrent and the longer he stares, the worse they get—it's the revolting white sweatshirt with red vines (or is that blood?) crisscrossing all over it that really sets James off. Because the designer could've just stopped there— _should've_ just stopped there.

But no.

There's a mouth.

There has to be a _fucking mouth_ just splattered on his chest, with a long tongue lolling out from between huge red lips. There's even a small fang peeking out from the corner.

James can't decide whether to cry or die, so he instead shoves open the door to the trial room and walks outside, fuming.

"So, God help me, I'm going to _kill_ you, Sirius—!"

But he doesn't get to kill him, doesn't even get to hold onto his anger for more than a second before it quickly morphs into shock, then confusion, finally settling on mild disgust as he takes in the scene before him.

Sirius is—quite unabashedly—sucking face with Lily's brunette friend.

James can barely do anything but stare at them like a startled deer, waiting for the pair of them to break apart—which they _do,_ after a fashion, and much later than James would like. Sirius steps away from Mary—Mary Macdonald, her name tag reads—who'd been happily pinned against the wall, and turns to him with a smirk, cool as a cucumber.

"Wotcher, Prongs. If I may say, you look deadly."

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Mary laughs as soon as she catches sight of him. James notices that she has a bold tilt to her lips and confidence in her brown eyes that he's quite familiar with. "It's Christmas around the corner, sir, not Halloween."

"It's your damn store that had it!" James snaps, feeling frustrated at being unable to pummel Sirius like he wants to.

"Oh yeah, I think there _may_ have been that one pile of Halloween's unsold stock that I'd stuffed somewhere at the very back. Why would you pick that up? It wasn't even on sale."

This is better than music to James's ears. "So, you mean we can't buy this?"

"Do I look insane to you? Of course, you can buy that atrocity. No one else will." Mary pinches her face in repulsion. "Are you _sure_ this is your pick though?"

"Don't have much of a choice here, do I?" James grumbles bitterly. After a beat, he says, "Hang on, is it alright for you to just snog your customers?"

"Of course not," Mary scoffs, flipping her dark braid over her shoulder as she pushes off the wall, "But exceptions can be made when your best friend owns the store."

"Your best friend?"

"The very same redhead you've been drooling after."

James's eyes immediately flash to Sirius, his stare accusatory. _Backstabber_ , he thinks.

"Oh, don't look at me," Sirius rolls his eyes, "I didn't say a word. Not that I need to, to be honest."

"He's right, you know," Mary laughs, now straightening her shirt as she makes to walk back outside, "I could sense the sexual tension in the air from miles away."

"There's no _sexual tension_."

"You're right, mate," Sirius claps a hand on James's shoulder, mock sympathy shining in his grey eyes, "There's only you and your desperation."

"Ha! If only," Mary scoffs.

James's heart gives a dangerously loud thump, as if unable to contain the hope that her four syllables spur on. He's just about to ask her what exactly she means by _if only_ when she saunters back to work.

"What have you been up to?" He hears Lily's skeptical voice float to his ears as he follows Mary outside. "You've got that 'I'm-so-smooth' look on your face right now."

"That's my constant charm, darling. Don't worry your pretty head."

"Mary."

"Lily."

"Tell me."

"I may have snogged one of the customers."

" _Mary!_ "

"What?" Mary cries, looking slightly chastised now but not nearly enough. "He's hot, and I was getting bored helping out sexually frustrated ladies."

"That's not—you can't—so _inappropriate_ —" Lily struggles with her words. Her frown deepens, and then she sighs. "It was Sirius, wasn't it?"

"We didn't get around to exchanging names," Mary smirks.

"So glad to know you think I'm hot, Evans," Sirius interrupts, and Lily blinks, startled to find him there. "And here I was, thinking I wasn't your type."

"Don't flatter yourself," Mary grins, "Lily has a very _specific_ type—"

"Mary, I swear—"

"Well, I guess I shouldn't dally. Lots of work to do," Mary spins on her heel, "See you tomorrow, boys."

James mumbles something in return but can't be sure what exactly. He finds himself rather preoccupied with staring at Lily—who seems completely speechless as she takes in his attire—and mulling over the various hints dropped by Mary.

Was she kidding? Was she only pulling her leg or had Lily actually mentioned him to her? If yes, was it out of pity? Amusement?

Or was it—as he could only hope in his wildest dreams—out of interest in him?

"I know this is terrible for business," Lily says at length, "but _please_ don't waste your money on that hideous sweatshirt, James."

Okay, it was definitely pity.

"I've already paid for it," James says, nursing his bleeding heart.

"I'll accept the return."

"We're not returning it," Sirius smiles happily, "James loves it."

"Fuck off."

"I'd intended to burn the thing when the stock came in initially, but Mary kept it around for Halloween," Lily sighs, "Says a lot that no one bought it even for the scariest holiday of the year."

"I think we've established I look terrible in it, thanks," James frowns.

"Oh!" Lily's eyes widen, and she shakes her head rapidly, "No, no, that's not—James, come on, I wasn't implying anything about _you_."

"That's not what it sounds like. You seem quite insistent that I return it."

"Well, excuse _me_ for wanting my customers to look good! Or not waste their money. How awful of me!" Lily scowls. After a beat, her expression softens a little. "If you're going to be a dolt about it, then I'll let you know that you pull this rubbish off better than anyone else could."

"Ah," James chokes, feeling the tips of his ears warm, "You—er—that is—"

"The words he's looking for are 'thank you'," Sirius rolls his eyes, elbowing James none too gently, "Even though we both know it's an absolute lie, Evans, and that I would look _much_ better in it than old Prongs any day."

"Please do support that claim by trying it on. And don't be the least bit shy about _keeping_ it on either."

"And deprive myself of all the joy in the world to prove something we know to be true already? Hardly!"

Sirius slings his arm around James's shoulder with his shit-eating grin, winking at Lily.

And despite the fact that he finds himself forced into clothes that he wouldn't have been able to dream of even in his worst nightmares, James—noticing Lily's carefree laughter join Sirius's amusement, albeit at his expense—can't help the small smile that slips onto his face.

Boy, what a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having such fun writing this, you guys! Do leave some comments and come chat with me on Tumblr. Lots of love xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 AKA 'The Happy Sunflower'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I'd try and finish this before Christmas? Let's have ourselves a good laugh.
> 
> 10 points to my Jily Discord buddies who catch the wonderful reference I've thrown in here from our chats.

**Fashion Disaster**

Chapter 3

"You never told me you own _Take a Bow_."

Lily turns around at the sound of his voice, lips already pulled back into a smile even though James is sure he hasn't done anything to deserve the heart-stopping view yet.

"You're right. I didn't."

"Which begs the question—why not?"

"Actually, it doesn't," Lily says, narrowing her eyes playfully, "It begs the question how you found out. Are you and Petunia secretly meeting for tea parties behind my back?"

James sighs, head hanging. "I wish you didn't have to find out like this."

"James!" Lily clutches a hand to her chest. "Are there…chocolate tarts at these parties?"

"Do you take me for an absolute savage, Evans? Of course, there are chocolate tarts."

"I'm offended you'd give them to Petunia when you _know_ how much I adore tarts."

"You draw the line at tarts and not at the secret meetings?"

"Everyone has faults, Potter, what you gonna do about it? Mine happens to be strange boundaries and my sister's is looking down on everyone else."

"Won't deny that. I'm certain she fantasizes about my untimely demise in her free time," James agrees, "I think she actually considered flipping the sign to 'closed' when she saw us coming down the street."

Her mouth hangs open in incredulity, "she did _not_."

"I swear on my hair she did—and you must know this about me, Lily—I _love_ my hair."

"Really, James? I wouldn't have guessed."

"Well, you know now. So, if there were ever a situation where an imposter tried to convince you they were me, you could always ask them what's my favorite thing about myself."

"Why would someone try to pretend they were you?"

"I'm dead popular. People are jealous."

"And amongst the very many personal questions I could potentially ask, _that's_ what you'd suggest?"

"The trick is to confuse them with simplicity. The answer is so obvious, they'd never go for it."

James watches, heart-swelling like a balloon, as she throws her head back and laughs. "You're _mad,_ Potter. Absolutely off your rockers."

"That's harsh," he says, grinning openly, "Is this how you treat your very precious customer?"

"I'm sorry, but have you _seen_ you today? I can't take you seriously when you're dressed like that."

"I'm hurt," he says, not entirely successful in controlling his amused snort. Lily laughs again. "I'm serious! You're crushing my heart. I will only take apology in the form of the truth."

"The truth?"

"About your ownership of the store, of course. Don't think you've successfully evaded the question, Evans."

Lily shrugs, the grin on her face softening a bit as she trails her fingers across a line of clothes. James is tempted to reach out and grab her hand, but controls himself in time. "It's not like I _meant_ not to tell you. Just didn't come up."

"Oh, I don't care why you didn't tell me," he says. Lily looks up, a question in her eyes. "I just want to know the story behind it."

"The story?"

"There _has_ to be a story."

"There isn't, really," Lily shrugs again, "my parents passed away two years ago and I started this thing because we had to pay our bills. Petunia _very_ grudgingly agreed to it because she has zero business sense and couldn't draw up a plan if you paid her."

James wants to shoot himself. He wants to _die_.

"Oh. Shit, Lily, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—dredge up any bad memories for you or anything." He smiles ruefully, hand scratching at his head, "I'm sure your parents were lovely people."

"They were," Lily agrees with a soft smile, entirely too kind, "and it's alright, you don't have to be sorry. I still miss them every day but it doesn't hurt as much anymore. Besides, I'm pretty happy with where I am now, so I don't mind talking about it either."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm pretty happy with where you are, too."

"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow at him, and James suddenly finds his fingers trailing over the clothes as well, eyes unable to look away from her face—though that's a problem he's had since he first stepped into the store.

"Yeah. I mean, if you hadn't, I wouldn't have met you, now, would I?"

"Ah," Lily says, and James delights in the flush that steals over her face, "You can't be too sure, Potter. We might've run into each other somewhere else."

"How sickeningly cute. Almost like fate," Mary appears suddenly from behind James, making him jump out of his skin. He hadn't realized how close he and Lily had gotten, how their fingertips were almost touching now. Lily seemingly makes the same observation, taking a few steps back and clearing her throat.

"Hi, Mary," James greets, and can anyone really blame him if his voice sounds just the slightest bit disappointed? "Good to see you again."

"Likewise, Potter. _Very_ glad to see you. Though nowhere near as glad as Lily, of course."

" _Mary_."

"And I have to say, you pull off that sweater quite smashingly."

"Why, thank you. I really do think giant sunflower prints are becoming on me."

Despite the sarcastic tone, James almost feels confident in his stupid attire; the ugly sweater accompanied by red leather pants and cowboy boots. Luckily for him, Sirius hadn't been able to dig up any more disastrous pieces from Halloween again, which might've had a lot to do with Lily's promise yesterday to James that she'd clear up all the old stock and keep it well away from Sirius's clutches.

Turns out she had done her job well. Not that James had doubted her for a second.

"Not my best attempt, I'll agree," Sirius sighs, joining them with a large pile of clothes in his hands. "I'll have to do better."

James lets out a strangled noise, hazel eyes wide behind his glasses. "What are those clothes? I thought we were done for today!"

"These are for me, you git," Sirius huffs in annoyance, as if James's legitimate fear is something like a bothersome housefly to him. "The world doesn't revolve around you."

"I don't want to hear that from _you_."

"What do you think, Evans?" Sirius turns to Lily, pointedly ignoring him, "Will they look good on me?"

"I'm sure you know the answer to that already," Lily humors him. "Though dark colors are definitely the right choice."

"Of course, they are," Sirius grins.

"Try not to float away to the ceiling, Black," Mary says, her hips brushing against Sirius's brazenly as she sashays away, "New customer. Gotta go."

"Come along, Prongs. I've to try these on."

"You're a right bastard," James grumbles under his breath as he follows Sirius to the back, "You're doing this just to throw it in my face."

"Throw what in your face?" Sirius asks, the picture of innocence. He lasts about half a second before a devious smirk cracks his mask. "Clothes? Now, don't be selfish, you've just bought a wonderful bunch yourself."

"Padfoot, if you're not done in five minutes, I'm leaving."

"I'll tell Evans you were wanking off to the thought of her last night."

"What the _fuck_?!" He shrieks, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline, "what's _wrong_ with you?! That's not even _true_!"

"Sounds believable enough to me."

"I really, truly hate you."

"I suggest you look up some other phrases to express yourself, mate. It's getting terribly boring hearing the same thing," Sirius winks before disappearing inside the changing room.

James is then somehow coerced into entertaining the giant child by clicking pictures of Sirius every time he steps out of the room in his devious, evil, preciously _normal_ clothes and sending them on the family WhatsApp group so that his mother can 'ooh' and 'aah' until Sirius's ego is satiated.

The bastard looks smashing, of course, but James would rather _die_ than admit as much.

And so, when Sirius reappears for the fourth time, he gasps, "oh my god, are you— _Edward Cullen_? Don't step out into the sunlight; Bella is _alive_ still!"

Naturally, Sirius promises revenge with such a withering glare that James is instantly regretful.

He's right to fear for his life when—not a second after Sirius has re-entered the trial room—his phone pings and there it is: a wonderfully mortifying picture of James in The Sweatshirt of Death from yesterday. It's all made worse by the fact that it's from that _one_ moment when a mean child had stopped on the road to bully James by pointing and laughing at him until his alarmed mother had pulled the monster away.

James wishes someone had pulled Sirius away, too.

His phone buzzes again, and it's his mother. 'I want to frame this,' she says, and he's putting down his foot.

"Sirius, get out! The bet is off! You broke a rule."

"I don't know what you mean."

James bangs on the door loud enough for Lily to pop by, her head peeking around the corner. "Um, you know you're my favorite customer, but I don't appreciate you breaking down my store, James."

Something warm and hopeless and absolutely pathetic settles inside him, fist stilling over the door. "I'm your favorite?"

" _Customer_."

"I'll take that."

Lily rolls her eyes, but she's grinning—almost _laughing_ —and she looks so pretty. He almost forgets what he'd been fuming about, but thankfully, Sirius walks out before the anger has truly dissipated because he can't let the little shit get away this time.

"You took my picture without my permission. Ergo, bet is off."

"Ergo nothing. You started the whole thing by making fun of me."

James doesn't think his eyes can get any wider. "You make fun of me _every day_! Like, literally every day, Sirius. _Constantly._ Are you—I can't—are you for _real_?!"

"Yeah well, I'm allowed to."

"That's the stupidest argument I've heard."

"Your face is stupid."

"Jesus, how _old_ are you?"

"I'm seeing a need for intervention here," Lily quips sagely, stepping between them with a solemn expression. She places her palms on James's and Sirius's chests, looking for all the world as if she's breaking up a rowdy fight between hooligans, when in fact neither of them has moved to so much as lift a finger on the other.

"What's this?" Sirius throws her a look. "You're a strange bird, Evans."

James wants to agree, but he's certain his brain has cracked because all he hears inside his head is, _she's touching me she's touching me SHE'S TOUCHING ME._

"I'm sure you'll excuse my eccentricity after everything I've witnessed, Black," she rolls her eyes. James wants to marry her. "So, what's this about a broken rule?"

"James made fun of me when this whole bet is clearly supposed to be a joke on him."

Even hearing it the second time doesn't feel any less ridiculous.

Lily seems to think so too because she makes a valiant effort to control her smile. "Right. A gross trespass on his part." She turns to him then, raising an eyebrow. She's so cool and does anyone care that he wants to _marry her?_ "And what's your story?"

"Well, I did call him Edward Cullen—"

The snort escapes her even as her teeth press down on perfect lips to hold it in. "Sorry. Fair, but sorry."

"Hey!"

"Anyway, so then he went ahead and sent a picture of me on the family group chat."

She drops her hands from their chests now—probably realizing that they aren't going to jump at each other's throats, snapping and foaming at the mouth like rabid dogs—and James almost sighs in disappointment. "And…that's not allowed?"

"Of course not!"

"Says _he_ ," glares Sirius.

"Says the _contract!_ "

Lily does a double-take. "Pardon? There's a—a contract to this madness?"

James immediately hates that they've come to this juncture. "Er, well, you know—"

"No, no, _please_ ," Sirius leans against the threshold, smirking openly, "feel free to explain all the rules you wrote down and how you signed it with your blood."

"For _fuck's_ sake—"

" _Blood?!_ "

"There was no blood!" James yells, and wants to cry, wants the earth to crack open and swallow him whole, wants anything that would make Lily forget the last five seconds or so. "It was just a plain old list of things that were not allowed and taking pictures in any chosen outfit was one of them and can we _please_ stop talking about this now?"

"You're the one who brought it up," Sirius grins, completely joyful again.

"I mean, he has a point," Lily shrugs.

James hates his life. He can't believe this has backfired on him so spectacularly—then again, he kind of can. "This is so unfair."

"I'll let the issue slide if you do," Sirius offers, sounding as if he's making a great sacrifice.

" _I'm_ the one who has anything to let slide, not you."

"This is why you don't get laid, Prongs. Learn to let things go."

He can't believe he's hearing this from Sirius, the person who can hold grudges like no one's business and could probably get an award for it if such a thing existed. But more importantly, he can't believe the bastard has gone and said that James doesn't get laid in _front of Lily—_

Probably sensing the impending eruption of James's head, Lily turns to him fully, hand back on the fuzzy lint of his happy—horrid—sweater, toes stretching the treacherous distance it takes for her to put her lips next to his luckier ear. He feels the heat from her body so close to his, feels his own fingers flexing as they struggle to not touch her, to not pull her waist firmly against his person because that's—well, that's kind of inappropriate.

And his mother wouldn't condone such behavior without proper consent from the other party.

"For entirely selfish reasons, I'm going to side with Sirius." Her breath, deliciously warm against his ear, shoots blood right to his face. And then she's stepping away again, hand trailing back to her side. James is confused, thoroughly so, but the glint in her eyes and the fire on his face leave little room for clearer conversation.

Dear God, is he about to get a boner in the middle of a clothing store?

"What did she say?" Sirius is suspicious.

James really doesn't know either.

"Just that I agree with you," she supplies serenely and is now _walking away_ as if it's no big deal. "Can't lose my precious customers over a little scuffle, could I? Totally in favor of continuing the bet. Sorry, Potter."

But she doesn't understand; it's actually James who is sorry because she's given him too much credit and left it on his stuttering mind to understand the meaning behind her words when he's clearly an incapable loon.

"Wow, she has the hots for you."

James thinks he might die of whiplash today. " _What_?!" he chokes, eyes practically bulging.

"Can't lose my precious customers, could I? _Sorry_ , Potter!" Sirius imitates, voice screeching high, and James decides it's not something he ever wants to witness again, "she was totally eye-fucking you! How did you miss that?"

The idea is so incomprehensible to him that Lily—gorgeous, funny, eleventy billion leagues ahead of him Lily—could possibly be eye-fucking him that it makes James laugh.

"Yeah, right. Stop taking the piss."

Sirius levels him with a flat stare. "And this is why I prefer tormenting you."

* * *

"No, but did you really mean it?" James needles for the hundredth time as they make their way to the counter after a few minutes. He feels incredibly agitated, restless, and jumpy like he's never been. "Only, I can never tell with you. D'you _really_ think she was flirting with me?"

"No," Sirius glares, dropping his clothes onto the counter. "I took it a step further than flirting. Now, will you shut the hell up?"

How _could_ he?

Excitement courses through him at the possibility that even a fraction of his affections might be a mutual phenomenon and not a fantasy he's doomed to cook inside his head for all of eternity. His eyes are instantly scanning the store, searching for red hair as he rocks back and forth on his heels, neck craning left and right.

"Stop that," Sirius barks, "you're annoying me."

"Truthfully, I couldn't give less shit."

"Well then go snog your bird or whatever. We gotta leave soon."

"What?" James spares him a glance, which he thinks is well-earned since Sirius has mentioned the idea of a _snog_ between him and Lily. "Why do we have to leave?"

"Moony and Wormtail are visiting today, remember?" Grey eyes narrow at him. "Keep up, Potter. It's like you're a scatter-brained oaf."

"Oh, right," James nods, "Got it. I'll be quick."

Someone clears their throat, and he turns back around to find Mary staring at them from behind the register. She has her fingers steepled in front of her in a way that reminds James uncannily of his Biology professor at secondary. A perfectly sculpted eyebrow flies to her forehead. "Splendid job ignoring my presence for so long."

"Er," He runs a hand through his hair. "'Lo again, Mary. Sorry 'bout that. I was just a little distracted."

She hums under her breath, smile pulling at red-painted lips as she scans a shirt. "So I heard. Something in particular bothering you, Potter?"

"Well, you know," James intones lamely, half-wishing he could see Sirius's face because he's certain the cretin is mouthing things to Mary while he's turned away but also half-wishing not to because he's had enough embarrassment for a day. "No."

Mary's smirk immeasurably perturbs him.

Is it because she's found more ammunition to make fun of James?

Is it because Sirius is making randy eyes at her?

Is it because she has lunch packed that she can't wait to get to?

He doesn't know.

"I see," she replies at length after James has successfully driven himself crazy with his own thoughts. Her small hands are surprisingly skilled as she folds the clothes in sweeping motions, clear brown eyes appraising him. "And here I thought you were wondering where Lily was."

James can't help his grin. "Just a bit."

"Damn," Mary shakes her head, passing the bag of clothes to Sirius. James thinks she'll say something more, but her attention is promptly snatched away, and now he's sure she's going to lean right over the counter to snog Sirius.

" _Well_?" he prompts, "where is she?"

Sirius clucks like a hen in irritation when Mary pulls back slightly. "Keep it in your pants," she tells him, before turning back to James. "She had to leave; got a phone call earlier. Said something or the other about having to meet Petunia urgently for lunch."

"Oh," James exhales a storm, heart clattering inside his chest sadly.

"Holy cow, Potter! Don't look so bloody devastated!" she cackles, "you can meet her tomorrow."

"I know that." Even to his own ears, the tone sounds entirely defensive and weak. "I'm gonna wait outside, Padfoot."

"Alright, be there in a minute," Sirius replies without turning around.

James rolls his eyes for the benefit of a rack of leggings and steps outside. The sun overhead barely registers on his skin thanks to the cold haze of December air. The sweater feels weirdly itchy on his skin because of _course_ , it has to be uncomfortable on top of hideous.

It's as he's pacing a few meters down the street—pulling at the collar of the offending piece of article—that his eyes fall on them.

Her red hair naturally catches his attention first, the hue so bright and merry that it fits right in with the festivities of the season. For a second, James thinks, _oh Lily's back from lunch,_ but it evaporates quickly—both the thought and the sudden delight. Because across the street, standing in front of a cozy little café, her nose and cheeks tinged red with the cold, she's not alone.

And even though he's always had problems with his vision, James knows that _certainly_ isn't Petunia.

For one, the person has limp black hair.

For another, it's a man.

He wants to tell himself to not jump to conclusions—perhaps it's just some acquaintance she's run into while on her lunch with her sister—but he watches as Lily steps closer, a rueful smile on her face, almost like an _I've missed you_ without actually speaking the words, and hugs him.

Hugs him like one wouldn't hug a person they've just accidentally reunited with. There's none of the surprise and all of the fondness.

And if that wasn't enough, she laces her arm through his and they enter the café together without a look back.

 _Clunk_.

The trapdoor inside his chest is thrown open until his heart freefalls, crashing heavily somewhere near his stomach.

James clenches his jaw, twists back around, and walks away.


End file.
